An Archaic Memory (5)

Chapter 5

Ragngrad

Fien dragged his chained feet behind the two guards. It was late. Later than midnight.

Fien was no soldier, although he could handle a knife well. His sister had taught him. Still, Kotald and his crew had been fairly efficient in disarming him. Fien had managed to injure only one of them.

They were gone now. And he was in Ragngrad. The prison of Alarez.

With some difficulty, Fien had managed to learn the crew leader’s name – Lesym. The young boy from the council. It had been a setup. Not a clever one either, Fien felt stupid not to have seen it coming. They had tied him up and gagged him.

The guards led him into a large room on the first floor. Ragngrad was a large prison. Fien could see how it could be ill maintained. A thin layer of dust had settled on the floor, with infrequent clearings of footsteps in between. The furniture in the room was probably older than he was, with bits of wood missing. One of the wooden benches had been broken at the center. There were paintings on the walls, the insides barely visible. Fien could make out a large Greeon killing a man in one of them.

The tables with guards at them had drinks set. The men laughed and gambled. Some sat on the floor by the cackling fire. With a shiver, Fien realized that he was cold.

The guards led him to the table by the fire. A man sat at the only cushioned chair in the room. Other guards hovered around the table, laughing and drinking with the head guard. He was a large man. His bald head gleamed on the side, reflecting the flames. He had a thin mustache that curled at his chin, blending into his stubble. His uniform had rounded shoulder pads that were a faded red. The rest of his uniform was a dark purple, same as the other guards. His flat hat rested by his drink.

The man held up a hand to one of the guards that was speaking to him. He took a large sip from his drank as he studied Fien.

“Another one?,” the head guard asked. He had a squeaky voice, with a think Alarean accent.

The men had stopped laughing. Some glanced at Fien.

“Kotald’s crew found him, my lord. An outsider,” said the guard on Fien’s left.

The head guard downed his entire drink and pushed the thin guard who had been talking to him before. The guard stumbled and hurried over to pick up a large bucket. He filled the empty glass.

“Bah, that Kotald,” said the large man, drinking more from his newly filled glass. “He dares too much. Only the guard makes arrests.”

He slammed the glass hard on the table, shattering it. He wiped his mouth with his other hand.

“Only the guards take prisoners. Not underworld crews. Who is this man?,” he bellowed.

The guards that had brought Fien glanced at one another.

“Kotald says the man is to be held for the council, Lord Jollen,” the second guard said. “It has been seen to. By Lord Lesym, sir.”

Jollen still glared at Fien. The short guard had again filled the glass in his hand which now leaked. A small puddle had formed at Jollen’s hand. Fien looked at the half-awake man.

“Take him!,” Jollen said. “If Kotald comes looking for him, he will not be allowed in. Not!”

The second guard who had spoken nodded and presented a paper to Jollen. The plump man shakily grabbed it and nodded towards a smaller room behind him. The guard walked in and returned with a set of keys.

The two men pulled Fien away from the large room. Fien heard a final cackle from the room as the men continued their games.

The sounds of the desperate prisoners were not heard until Fien was led well beyond a hundred feet of Jollen’s quarters. The guards had apparently kept the initial cells to themselves. Most of the doors stood ajar, some with light inside. Fien could see beds made on slabs of stone. Some of the cells had chairs, but there wasn’t much else.

The corridor darkened as the cells of the prisoners drew near. Fien heard shouts, banging and moans of his fellow prisoners. There was barely enough light to make out the walls in the corridors with doors on either side every few feet. Each cell was really small, just enough for small slab of stone and a two feet wide walking space beside it.

A few hundred feet in, they reached an intersection. The corridors ran in all four directions, including the one they had just arrived from. The guards led him to the right and up a staircase until they reached the fourth landing. The floors above the first one were particularly dark, the torches blown out. There was some light from the remaining lit torches, but the cells were without light.

Fien bit the gag and pulled it into his mouth, hard. The knot slipped from his head to the neck. He spit the loosened cloth out and it hung near his jaw. He sighed.

“Charming,” he said, making the two guards jump. One of them tried to pull the gag back into Fien’s mouth. Fien slid away from him.

“That’s disgusting, my man. I just had that in my mouth.”

The guard cursed.

“Just shut yer mouth,” he said.

The other guard shook his head and jerked the chain that held Fien’s right arm. He continued to walk. Fien followed.

“No light for the prisoners? How do they At least even eat in there?,” Fien asked. No noise came out of most of the cells on this floor, although he occasionally heard someone snoring.
The two guards laughed.

“There is no light here. You do what you want to do in the darkness,” said the guard that had spoken to Jollen in the Jailer’s quarters.

“Sunlight doesn’t make it this far in. See any windows in here scum?,” the other guard retorted.

Fien’s heart sunk. No light. The prisoners lived in darkness, not knowing whether it was day or night. Not knowing how many days had passed in the real world. Barely living. It would be hard to get out of this place without help. He would have to work in complete and utter darkness. He quickly began a countdown inside his head, a non-verbal second clock. He had to know how long he would be in here. He matched his walking step to the beat of the every second in his head and slowed the motion of his hands. It was easy to keep track of time if he matched his actions to the beat. Little chance of losing track.

Fien began thinking of an alternate escape plan immediately. It would be hard to work in the dark. He would need help to escape. A sympathetic guard was his best option.

The prison was a maze, he tried to get a sense of direction, but the stairs they had climbed was twisted and uneven. Even on the same floor, the guards led him down a long path, crossing and turning at multiple intersections. He tried to look for signs that could lead him out, but the walls were mundane as ever. It seemed to Fien that the guards didn’t know where they were taking him. They seemed to be following the sounds of the inmates to lead him to an unoccupied cell. His panic rose and Fien breathed in deeply.

The guards finally stopped by a cell. The door was wooden, with a small cropping in the center. The opening had metal railings. As one of them opened the doors, Fien tugged hard at the chains. It was a desperate final attempt. The second guard in front of Fien turned, frustrated. He unsheathed a small knife from his side and pointed it directly at Fien.

“Final warning,” he said, through gritted teeth. “Another movement, and I will leave you bleeding in here.”

Fien promptly knocked the knife out of the guard’s hand with a swift motion of his left knee. He stretched his hands as much as he could and caught it, moving one step closer to the guard. The guard stumbled and pushed on the first guard who had opened the cell door. The door creaked open as he fell inside. The second guard recovered in time to leap away as Fien swung with the knife. Fien jumped himself, as much the chained legs allowed him and struck again, managing to give the second guard a deep gash across his chest. The guard cried out in pain and fell against the door.

The first guard had recovered from his initial fall and came at Fien with his spear. Fien managed to dodge the attack, but dropped his knife when it clanged against the spear handle. He put all his weight against the spear, pushing it at the open door. The second guard yelped and got out of the way.

As soon as the spear hit the door, Fien changed the direction of his push. He rammed his right shoulder into the first guard who still held his spear. The guard groaned and fell backwards. Unfortunately, with nothing to balance his force of push, Fien lost his footing. He tripped over the fallen guard and fell headfirst into the cell. The helm of the guard had fallen off him, and Fien grabbed it into his hands. He used it as a shield as the second guard struck. They were all inside the cell now.

Fien made for the door and the standing guard blocked him again. He threw off the second attack with the helm in his right hand. The guard wearily held his spear and rounded on Fien. The element of a surprise attack was lost as the fallen guard stood up and picked up his own spear. Fien cursed.

“Get down, scum!,” the guard helm-less guard yelled. “You cannot escape here even if you kill us.”

Fien grunted. “Can’t hurt my odds, right?”

Both the guards thrust their spears at him. Fien made a calculated decision. He lifted his right leg slightly to block the helmless guard’s spear. It grazed his thigh. Fien gritted his teeth as he blocked the second guard’s spear with the helm. He leaped and stepped on the spear that had cut him with his right leg. It snapped in half, and the spear front fell to the ground. The chains holding Fien’s feet together pulled him down. He picked up the fallen spear as he fell. He turned on his back and used the swift motion to launch the spear half. It made a crunching sound as it found its mark. The helm-less guard fell with the spear end in his chest.

The second guard had swung at Fien and this time the spear flew through his hair. Fien pulled away, but the blade cut him at his shoulder and down his left arm. He grunted against the pain. It would be worth it if he made it out of Ragngrad. He rounded on the guard, carefully taking two steps to the door.

“You killed him. You killed Groll!,” yelled the guard. He hesitated and Fien made his move.

He leaped at the guard who cried out. The man was in shock. He dropped the spear and a brutal struggle began. Fien wrapped the chain holding his hands around the man’s neck. He took a blow to his gut in the process. He blocked the next blow and pulled with both his hands. The chain strung tightly around the guard’s neck.

The guard clutched his throat as Fien pulled harder. The blood flowed out of his cuts, and Fien fought to stay conscious. Finally, after a minute, the guard stopped moving.

Fien relaxed. He let go of the guard’s corpse and dragged himself to the wall. He sat up breathless. After a minute, he picked up the spear and broke the chains on his legs. He set the spear upright and hung the chains binding his hands to it. He pulled with all his might. The clasps left a mark on his wrists but the chain broke.

Fien ran. He ran the way the guards had led him to the empty cell. He made a left turn by the first intersection trying to retrace the way they had arrived. He stopped at the next intersection and turned right.

There was a scraping noise. He stopped in the dark corridor, listening. He heard it again. The sound was that of a metal scraping stone. Fien took shelter in the darkness below the only glowing light in the corridor. The fire was barely alive, but it still lit the corridor except for the wall it was mounted on. Fien made himself scarce against the wall and waited.

A guard walked turned into the corridor, his spear scraping the floor. He was of average height with red hair. He wore the same uniform as the other guards and he periodically scraped the wood to the floor. As he walked by Fien, he hummed at a very low pitch. A melody. Apparently no one was on alert for an escaped prisoner. Not yet.

Fien followed the man. But the guard turned right at the first intersection they came across. Away from the dead guards Fien had left behind. So Fien returned to the dim light. He walked on.

Two right turns later, he groaned. He tried to remember the way the guards had led him before. The prison was a maze. A big one. And Fien was stuck. After wandering around, hidden, for a few more minutes, he finally saw the stairs.

He said a silent prayer as he ran to it. The stairs. All he had to do was take the straight way down. Down to the first landing, and then he could find the entrance. Except the stairs in front of him only led up. There was no opening below. He sighed and climbed up.

The stairs ran up the opening endlessly. They didn’t clear out into any landing. Fien kept climbing. With silence as his only companion, he put one foot above the other and made his way up. The darkness streaked into light violet to it as he ascended. He must have climbed more than a hundred feet… two hundred feet… two hundred meters. The violet light of Cycnus washed him as he smelled the fresh air.

At the top, he fell. Exhausted. He had held his cut with his right hand during his escape. It now dripped with dark, red blood. The stars swam in front of him and he realized the blood loss was causing delusions. He slapped his face to stay awake and tore off his shirt, wrapping it tightly around the large gash at his shoulder.

The waves crashed beyond Ragngrad. Fien half-walked and dragged himself to the edge. The view was marvelous. It was terrifying.

The dark building extended in every possible direction he looked. It descended as stairs, all of them leading down. It was as if someone had stacked cubes on top of the each other endlessly and Fien stood on the highest one. Each cube had a shiny blackness to it, smooth as lake water. The violet light disappeared as it reached Ragngrad. Fien could hear the waves, but the water was beyond the descending blocks. Barely visible. Freedom.

He saw people a short distance away. On a lower block of Ragngrad. They had a fire. Suddenly Fien realized how cold it was. Each block was about the size of a village house. Even if he hadn’t been wounded, that would have been a difficult leap down. He desperately looked around and realized that his cube was not perfect.

It had ruins all around it. The ruins seemed perfectly symmetrical from a distance but, as he moved closer, he saw that the structure was covered in crustacean shells. A skull was embedded into a thin wall that was barely a foot tall. A pillar stood on one of the corners and the broken ruins reached the smooth cube below it. Fien almost laughed out loud in relief.

Tightening the shirt around his wound again, he winced. He held on to the wall and descending the edge of his cube. The thin ruin at the corner looked weak, but it was the singular beam for him to hold on to. He hesitated.
He had made it this far. He only had to climb down from here. The prison did seem to stretch endlessly, descending cube structures in every direction. But there were no guards here, except for the guards sitting by the fire. However, they had no uniforms. To be safer, he would avoid them. He chose East, the direction opposite to the people by the fire. Hold on for a little longer, he thought to himself.

The thought of Anya had pushed him this far. His sister, taken by the killer. Probably tortured. Probably dead. No, he could not think that. His physical pain was nothing. A little blood lost. He would make it to the Sea below. Make it out of Alarez and onto the trail of the murderer. He would find his sister and keep his promise.

He slid down the ruin and landed on the cube below him. Smooth as water. Not a scratch on it. As he turned around from the ruin, he saw the same fire ahead. A few hundred feet away. A little girl danced around it. The men and women sitting around the fire clapped. Laughter.

Fien shook his head. His vision blurred. He had lost too much blood. The tied shirt had turned a dark red from the blood. He sighed. He looked around the second cube for a way down. Down.

He was on the topmost cube structure. The only way was down. The cube was not as smooth as it looked, after all. He felt the rough texture with his feet. One of the corners had a small structure, a ruin. How had he missed it? He blinked.

Ragngrad had reorganized itself after he had descended to the first step. Fien still stood on the top most cubic structure. The glossy black cubes extended in every direction from his top most position. They descended like stairs. An infinitely complex stairs of cubic structures stuck together. Each block had a different height. But they all lead to the same peak. Fien’s location. He spun around, affirming that the stairs he had taken to reach the top was still in the current rooftop. It was there. Right at the center.

Had he imagined climbing down the first structure? He felt light headed. His shirt now soaked in his blood. He shook himself. The party by the fire was still there, exactly where they were supposed to be. The little girl had stopped dancing. She was waving Fien toward their location. The people sitting around the girl were waving him over as well. The girl skipped enthusiastically.

“We’re here!,” she said. She didn’t shout but somehow her voice reached him. Why wouldn’t they help him?

“Help me!,” Fien shouted. He raised his voice as high as he could.

The group continued to wave him over. Taking a deep breath, Fien ran to the ruin on the other side of the top cube. As he climbed down, he heard the group of people cheering him on. Only, there were behind him. On a cube that was a few hundred feet away. He glanced at the group from the ruin. The same girl stood waving at him. He climbed down the ruin.

He didn’t turn around immediately. Fien kept his eyes on the top-most structure he had descended from. It stood there, unmoving. He had definitely made it one step down on those massive cube-like stairs. Somehow the group of people was still behind him. They were in a completely different direction than before. His head spun. He ran around the second cube to the other end, still keeping his eyes on the cube at the peak. He glanced at the location where the gathering of the men, women and the girl surrounding the fire was supposed to be. Instead he just saw the enormous descending cubes. How had they moved? The moon – Cycnus – had not changed it location. The violet tinge scattered from the West as before. But the gathering had moved South. He turned around and looked at the inviting girl. She still hopped in excitement and beckoned Fien over.

Fien was on the top-most cube structure. It was smooth like glass. Except it wasn’t. He felt the rough surface under his bare feet. He realized that his only option was to go down. He had to pick a direction and keep climbing those enormous house-sized cubes. They stretched endlessly in every direction. Only the skies gave him a sense of direction. A small group of people celebrated a short distance away. A fire crackled in the center of their gathering. The men and women clapped their hands together as a girl danced near the fire. Fien blinked. He was going insane.

The ruin came into his view as soon as he thought of descending the cube again. Frustrated, Fien ran to the edge and leaped to the second cube. A path that would lead him to the gathered group on top of Ragngrad and their warm fire. The leap was about three meters. He expected his legs to give out. It would be over in a second.

Fien finally broke the surface. He climbed the last of the stairs and smelled fresh air. He had been climbing for better part of an hour. The view at the top was breathtaking. It was also terrifying. The light of the moon gave the dark sky a violet tinge. Ragngrad fell around him in every direction. It was like he was standing at the summit of a large mountain. Only the mountain was made of large dark cube-like structure stacked on top of each other. It was an elaborate staircase that lead down in every direction. The black cubes absorbed the violet light, and it disappeared near them. Smooth as water, these cubes were Fien’s escape route. A few hundred feet away, Fien saw a small gathering. People around a warm fire, dancing. A little girl… Fien shook his head. Caenum’s grasp, it was happening again!

Fien fell to the rooftop floor, his actual prison cell.

Outside a guard shifted two corpses as he closed the cell door.